


Queen for the Night

by pocketbookangel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketbookangel/pseuds/pocketbookangel
Summary: “Let’s make this interesting,” Mila said. Her blue eyes sparkled as she glanced at Sara. “The winner gets to be queen, while the loser is her loyal subject.”Sara takes Mila's bet even though she is already willing to do whatever Mila wants.





	Queen for the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fragilespark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilespark/gifts).



Sara was never sure when the Mila problem began. Mila had come up from juniors last year and been an immediate sensation. Confident and technically perfect jumps, elegant spins, gloriously bright red hair—Sara told had told herself it was a _girl crush_. I want to be friends with her and maybe I want to be her, she thought. She watched her brother laugh at something Mila said and told herself that she was annoyed because Michele needed to find his own friends and not steal hers. _Girl crush_ , she repeated as she tried to forget how aware she was of Mila’s breasts every time they hugged.

The Mila problem intensified when it turned out that dating, as in going on dates, was easy, but staying interested in them was hard.

“That was great,” Sara said as she hugged Emil goodbye. She felt him try to hold on, to make their moment of contact last, but she wriggled out of his arms and into the hotel lobby before he could try to make plans to see her again. It was a relief, eating dinner and seeing a film with a man who was not her brother; she could tick that box and move on with her real life. It was a strange thought, wasn’t dating part of real life?

She was distracted by the sight of her brother sitting at a table in the hotel bar with Mila. He was holding up a wine list in front of his face, as if that narrow piece of paper could be a disguise. Mila, pale drink in hand, waved cheerfully and beckoned her over.

Michele mumbled hello

“Your brother looked lonely, so I told him he could buy me a drink. Cheer me up a bit because my on/off boyfriend is definitely off for good.” Mila said. She held up her glass. “It’s called an Ice Queen. Try it.”

Sara took the glass, suddenly feeling uncomfortable as Mila watched her sip. The drink sparkled against her tongue with surprising sweetness.

“We were going to talk about you, but Michele saw the wine list and was offended by the prominence given to New Zealand and California, so he’s been lecturing the bartender. I think that’s one of the hazards of the profession. We have to worry about our knees; they have to worry about their ears being talked off.”

“Mickey, don’t pretend you know anything about wine,” Sara said. She felt relieved, but the way Michele refused to meet her eyes made her wonder what they really had been saying.

Michele set down the wine list. “Remember when we were allowed one sip at the table, and you grabbed the whole glass? Mama started to yell, but then you spit it out and everyone yelled,” he said in Italian.

“I remember, and you grabbed the bottle as a distraction, did I ever thank you for that?”

“Ciao,” Mila said, and finished her drink.

“Sorry,” Sara said. There she was, falling into Mickey’s trap again, letting him draw a circle around them to keep the world at a distance.

“Don’t worry, you can make it up to me by losing beautifully next time. I’d like results that are close enough to be a challenge, but will still allow journos to use the word _decisive_ to describe my victory.”

“To describe my victory, you mean,” Sara said.

“Sara’s victory,” Michele said.

 Sara glared at her brother. She could fight her own battles.

“My victory,” Mila said. “Let’s make this interesting. The winner gets to be queen, while the loser is her loyal subject.”

“For how long?”

“One night.”

Heart beating wildly, Sara agreed.

That day, Sara was skating for one person. She knew that Mila would be watching her every move. She felt light, as if anything were possible and gravity didn’t exist. She imagined Mila’s eyes on her as the results were announced and her heart felt as if it would explode.

“Congratulations,” Mila said. “I am yours to command.”

Sara ran through all the scenarios she could think of, all of the dirty thoughts she’d had _. I could order her to kiss me_ and _I could order her to take off her clothes and spread her legs_. Sara felt slightly dizzy. She’d never even kissed anyone, not for real, not kisses with intent, and her _girl crush_ was in front of her, asking for a command.

It was a joke, wasn’t it?

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Mila stood there, hands on her hips, mischief in her eyes.

Sara tried not to stare at her, confused by Mila’s radiant blue eyes and glossy pink lips, and paralysed by the inevitability of crashing. It was the same feeling as when her skate took off a second too late, and everything spun beneath her, seconds stretching into hours before she hit the ice. She’d been silent too long—anything she said now would be weird.

“Help me do my makeup,” Sara finally said. She felt more in control of the situation now that Mila looked a little uncertain.

“I have a date later. Not Emil, someone you don’t know, and I want to look even better than last time. So, you can help me with my makeup.”

“I don’t really…” Mila tapped her lips. “Someone else does this for competitions. For myself, it’s lipgloss and eyeliner.”

“You did say anything.”

During the short taxi ride back to the hotel, Mila kept asking about Sara’s mystery date, but Sara was too exhausted by the earlier conversation to think of any more lies.

“You don’t know him,” she said.

“It’s Victor, isn’t it,” Mila said, slouching back against the vinyl, defeated. “You know that if you tell me, I won’t be able to resist telling everyone, and then you’ll be murdered by Yuuri, Yuri, Yakov, and a mob of screaming fans.”

“You guessed, it’s Victor! But we’re taking all of the Yuris and all of the fans on our date.” She caught Mila’s eye and started to giggle. “You’ve known Yuri for a long time, how do you think he will react to the crowds?”

“He adores them and their cat ears,” Mila said. She lowered her voice to whisper in Sara’s ear, “It’s a secret.”

As they went up to her hotel room, Sara regretted her suggestion. Now she would have to get dressed up and hide in the hotel bar until Mila left. What if Mila suggested getting a drink and waiting for the mystery date together?

The hotel room was beige on white, but the large bed was covered in a rainbow of pillows, a look designed to appeal to Instagram. Sara sat in the white chair next to the glossy white desk.

“Are you ready?”

Doubt flickered through Mila’s eyes. “You’re not going to wash your face first or something like that?”

“Of course, I forgot!” Sara bounced out of the chair and into the bathroom. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. “The sooner this is over, the better,” she told herself.

She returned to the chair and smiled up at Mila, who was examining a bottle of primer.

“I don’t know how to use brushes, so I’ll have to put this on you with my fingers. I did warn you…”

Sara closed her eyes and felt Mila’s fingers touching her face, first lightly, and then with careful downward strokes. She could feel her pulse racing, and hoped Mila wouldn’t notice.

“Concealer, not that you have anything to conceal,” Mila said, leaning over her.

Sara opened one eye, Mila’s breasts were so close, one movement and she would have them in her hands. She closed her eyes again and tried to think of something else as Mila continued moving her hands over her face.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Mila ordered. “Liquid eyeliner? Are you sure you want me to do this?”

Sara nodded, eyes firmly closed.

“You need to relax a little… there. No… okay, finished!”

Sara opened her eyes. Mila’s face was still close to hers and she looked pleased.

“Now, lips,” Mila said, smacking her lips together in a little fake kiss.

Sara decided this was an order. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against Mila’s glossy pink lips. Before she could stop herself, before she could pull away, Mila was kissing her back, her tongue softly encouraging Sara’s mouth to open. For the first time that evening, Sara felt herself relax, surrender, Mila’s tongue was caressing her own, and she thrilled at this new awareness, this new way of existing in her body. Mila straddled her, pinning her to the chair with slim, muscular thighs, and Sara wrapped one arm and around Mila’s waist, and slid the other under Mila’s shirt, amazed by the warmth of her skin.

They broke their kiss, and Sara rested her head on Mila’s shoulder.

Mila sighed. “I’d hoped… I thought I was wrong about you.”

“Not wrong,” Sara murmured against Mila’s neck. She sighed a little as she felt Mila stroking her hair.

“When you were in the bathroom, I was kicking myself for not simply asking if you wanted to try hanging out, you know, as more than friends.”

“I might have said no out of habit. I’ve never done this before,” Sara confessed. “When I was fourteen, one of our rink mates, Alessandro, kissed me after practice. My brother saw it, and he gave Alessandro a black eye and I don’t know what he said, but Alessandro was afraid to even say good morning to me. I… I felt proud. I was happy to have my brother protect me. I didn’t want to kiss boys, and not being allowed to made it easier. All the boys knew, don’t talk to Sara because her brother will kill you.” She moved her hand up, hesitating as she felt the band of Mila’s bra.

“Your brother isn’t going to kill me.”

“Is that what you were talking about in the bar?”

Instead of answering, Mila settled into Sara’s lap, pulled her shirt off, and then reached back to unhook her bra. The change in Mila’s position made Sara aware of the desperate heat surging through her body and the dampness between her thighs. She helped Mila push off her bra straps, and then ran her fingers over the newly exposed skin, pale and delicate. Mila’s breasts fit perfectly in her hands, but Sara dipped her head to kiss them, fascinated by the way her nipples hardened as she ran her tongue over them and intoxicated by the sounds Mila was making, the soft moans and the strong legs tightening around her.

“I can still give you an order, right?” Sara asked, unsteadily finding her voice again.

“Queen for the night,” Mila said, looking directly into Sara’s eyes.

“I want you to take off your clothes and lie down on the bed.”

“Only if you do the same.” With her characteristic grace, Mila was on her feet, and the way her hips moved as she slid out of her leggings inspired another surge of desire, a desperate longing to be touched again.

“Your turn,” Mila said, holding out her hand. Sara had never undressed so quickly or so easily, clothes slipping to the floor until Mila was whispering her name, burning it into her skin. Sara moaned as Mila’s fingers touched her in a way she’d always been a little afraid to touch herself—she leaned into the sensation, it was coming in waves, unbalancing her. Every nerve in her body sang with pleasure as she looked into Mila’s fierce blue eyes and knew she felt the same.

I can taste myself on her skin, Sara thought, drowsy and ready to fall into sleep, even though her body was still entwined with Mila’s.

“Any last orders? Your makeup is kind of a mess, and I did really try to make it look good.”

“You can try again next time I win,” Sara said, and she felt rather than saw Mila’s lips curve into a smile.

“Next time you’re going to be taking orders from me,” Mila said, and there was an edge to her voice that sent a prickle of desire down Sara’s spine.

The thought of _next time_ already felt like victory.


End file.
